


The Other Side of Life

by ButterflyGhost



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, post traumatic death disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob ponders lost chances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side of Life

If you had asked me before I was shot whether I believed in an afterlife, I would have answered in no uncertain terms that no, I did not. Depending on my mood I would have been adversarial, lecturing, or amused. It is not that I am (or was) an avowed atheist – truth be told I still have no idea – but the notion that sentience could survive ‘when we have shuffled off this mortal coil’ – well, it did seem laughable. How could sentience survive without neurons firing to spark thoughts, dreams, imaginings?

Then again, there were times when I considered belief in the afterlife not just illogical or amusing – sometimes it seemed tragic. The fact that people felt the need to lie to themselves just to get past grief. After all, I had always faced the truth (or so I believed). When Caroline died I didn’t shelter from the pain by telling myself lies.

And it’s not that I was a cruel man – at least I like to think I wasn’t – but I could be oblivious to others feelings. I remember on one occasion arguing with a friend of mine who had just lost her husband, telling her that of course her husband wasn’t haunting her. He was dead, which meant he was gone – there was nothing left. If I could face it when Caroline died then so could she. Better to see the universe as it was than tell oneself children’s stories in the dark.

It was only when she broke down in tears that I understood just how cruel my honesty had been.

And it was only after I died that I realised how much I had hurt Benton with my casual neglect. Perhaps that is why I am trapped here, haunting Benton.

To be fair, I have considered the possibility that I am lying in a coma somewhere, and that these are random dreams. The afterlife is very confusing and chaotic, so delirium of some sort would be a good explanation as to what I am experiencing. I’ve wondered if I’m still lying in the snow, bleeding out, my neurons firing out dying visions to comfort me before oblivion.

But if either of those were the case then Benton makes no sense. Because, frankly, if I wanted to be comforted before dying, then I would dream Benton as a child again, I would relive all those years when I wasn’t there for him, and I would do things differently.

In my dreams he would be happy to see me.

Perhaps my brain is telling me truths. Benton seems more irritated than anything. Sometimes I can see his fondness for me, but it’s buried under layers of hurt. And yes – that does disappoint me. Benton’s not the only one who hurts. At least I deserve it. He never did.

Perhaps this is my punishment. Perhaps this is why I haven’t seen Caroline yet – because good Lord, after all these years, I still miss Caroline.

The other side is lonely. But what can I expect? I built a lonely life – for myself and those I loved. If I had been dreaming comfort before the end then my family would be together. Benton a child again, before all the damage. And my wife would be by side. I would create a world in which she had never died, in which Benton never grew up to be disappointed in me, a world in which – ah, this is pointless. Some things aren’t meant to be.

I would have dreamed myself happy. I would have dreamed Benton happy. I would have dreamed Caroline – ah God.

If this was a dream I would have dreamed that she was here.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Fan-flashworks Amnesty 19, to the prompt 'The Other Side.'


End file.
